


Unbecoming

by doctortrekkie



Series: Break Me Down and Build Me Up [20]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, LOTS of deliberate narrative mirroring back to Natural, Series Finale, also starts off the Drama CD arc interestingly enough, hehehe check out the F/M tag hehehe, in a way at least, lots of callbacks to previous HoS fics too, oh look Iago is a terrible human being, shocking development there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctortrekkie/pseuds/doctortrekkie
Summary: There are a few things in life that Leo knows for certain. He will never live up to Xander. Camilla will dote without end.And Iago is up to no good.A strange new Faceless threat has appeared, wreaking havoc in the eastern regions of Nohr. When Leo is sent to investigate, his father’s tactician takes an interest that seems just a little too keen to be casual. Before Leo’s suspicions can come to fruition, however, he finds himself facing another realization entirely.One that threatens to undo everything he thought he knew about himself.(The Heart of Stone finale; takes place a year before the beginning of Fates, a month and a half afterAggression,and two weeks before the start ofBeliever;March 635)
Relationships: Leon | Leo/My Unit | Kamui | Corrin
Series: Break Me Down and Build Me Up [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1049543
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which King Garon makes an unexpected choice.

_ And I swam in the wakes of imposters, just to feel what it’s like to pretend, there’s no dreams in the waves, only monsters, and the monsters are my only friends… _

_ (They’re all that I was, and never could be) _

The world blurred together into a stormy kaleidoscope of stone, snow, and sky.

A black stallion surged across the Nohrian landscape, his steps never faltering over the less than ideal terrain, his hooves clattering over the stone in a rhythm so fast the four beats of them almost sounded like one. His mane streamed back as a flag, whipping at his rider’s face; his breath came in snorted, striving pants that sounded in time with every stride.

The rider saw the ditch before the horse—that, or the stallion simply had more interest in reckless speed than self-preservation. He shook his head, clamping onto the bit as his rider tried to rein him in, but after a moment of resistance he relented, hindquarters coming up under his body with even more strength and power than he’d had before.

_ Half-halt, half-halt, half-halt— _ and the distance was there, locked in and perfect. As if reading the moment his rider thought  _ Go!  _ the stallion  _ pushed,  _ clearing the ditch in a frankly magnificent arc and continuing his charge toward the top of the mountain.

__ Leo’s laugh was lost to the stinging wind as he loosed one rein to clap a hand to Hati’s neck; his mount responded to the moment of freedom with an impish series of no less than six bucks, though they seemed to be more full of simple delight for life than any serious intent to throw the prince.

It was once Hati settled back into a rhythm, though, that Leo noticed only one set of hoofsteps sounded still. To the stallion’s protest, Leo reined him in, casting a concerned look back over his shoulder.

He found Xander had slowed to a trot, picking his way around the ditch with his brow furrowed in concern. The crown prince’s own mount, Skoll, trod over the rocks with the delicacy of a Cyrkensian dancer, as if he were skirting around the Bottomless Canyon and not a two-foot chasm in the ground.

“Sorry, are we on a scenic tour now?” Leo called back to his brother. “Here I thought for a minute we were racing.”

“It was a risky distance,” Xander returned. “And I could not judge the footing on the other side.” He rose in his stirrups as he neared, while Skoll pricked his ears in Hati’s direction and was rewarded with the equine equivalent of a sneer. “Really, Leo, I know you  _ are  _ competitive to a fault, but I did not expect even  _ you  _ to take a jump like that at full gallop without knowing the landing.”

Leo hoped Xander couldn’t notice him bristle with all the layers of leather and fur adorning him. “Actually,” the younger prince said in a flat voice, “I happen to know this trail quite well. Niles and I take it often.”

“Still,” Xander said, urging Skoll up the trail once more at a far more sedate pace. “It would have hardly been much of a friendly match had your horse snapped a fetlock in the middle of it.”

Leo muffled a snort in his hand under the pretense of wiping a snowflake off his nose.  _ Please. As if you know the definition of the phrase ‘friendly match.’  _ “You know I would never risk Hati like that,” he said instead, nudging his mount to fall in step beside his brother’s.

Xander’s mouth stayed turned down into that lopsided frown that had graced his face even more permanently than usual since the beginning of the year. The crown prince let out a heavy sigh. “Of course you wouldn’t. My apologies, Leo.”

It took them perhaps two minutes more to reach the peak of the hill, all one hundred and twenty seconds spent in utter silence. When they did make it to the top, two figures below waved cheerfully: a gray-haired rider on a bay horse and a white-haired rider on a liver chestnut.

_ “Who won?”  _ Silas yelled, cupping his hand to his mouth to carry his voice better.

_ “Neither,”  _ Xander called back.

_ “Technically you forfeited,”  _ Leo corrected, keeping his voice to the same volume in hopes of the two men below witnessing the event.

Niles said something unintelligible then, but judging by the way Silas shook his head and flapped a hand at him Leo didn’t particularly need to know what it was. Or want to, for that matter.  _ “Are you coming?”  _ the archer finally shouted to them.

_ “Yes, momentarily,”  _ Xander answered. Turning back to Leo, he dropped his voice to a more reasonable volume. “Well, then. We had best be going.”

Leo answered with a curt nod, turning Hati to point back down the trail. When a glimpse in his peripherals revealed Xander made no move to follow, though, he twisted back in his saddle. “Brother?” he ventured.

An unmistakable mask of deep melancholy settled over the crown prince’s features as he continued to gaze down on the two men below. “I keep looking for a third horse,” Xander finally admitted, his voice low and hollow.

Leo glanced away, a sudden, dull pain lodging itself square in the middle of his chest. How many times had they taken rides like this over the years? Since Xander had still had his old gray-muzzled destrier and Leo hadn’t yet graduated from his first crotchety pony? It stretched over such a chunk of Leo’s life that the time before it seemed like another era—something they shared that didn’t come down to rank, or abilities, or competitiveness.

They hadn’t always had three guards, though Niles had started joining them soon after Leo had hired him, eager to prove his loyalty. But there from the beginning, a constant presence since Xander had been sixteen and Leo had been eight, had been Asmund and Viola.

Never again would Xander’s retainers join them on another ride.

“So do I,” Leo answered after a long moment.

If Xander had been a man keen on platitudes, Leo might have given him some.  _ It wasn’t your fault. You were outnumbered. Hans and Iago gave you bad information on the enemy forces. Nothing you could have done differently would have changed the outcome. _

_ Asmund and Viola both swore their lives to you, and they both knew that someday they might have to lay them down for you. _

Leo thought of a girl, not even yet four, old enough to wait impatiently for her parents to return but too young to fully understand that they never would, even almost three months later.

“Let’s go,” Xander murmured again, and this time he did.

Leo stared at his back for a long moment, thinking to himself that Asmund and Viola’s funeral had been the only time he’d ever seen his elder brother cry.

~~~

“My, you two look like a couple of Elise’s dolls that were left out in a snowbank.”

“Thanks, Camilla,” Leo said dryly, yanking off one glove so he could fluff a hand through his hair. A pile of half-melted slush fell from his head to the stone floor of Castle Krakenburg with an unceremonious plop. “Good to see you too.”

His eldest sister tittered fondly into the back of her hand. An immaculate cloak of purple velvet cascaded from her shoulders, trimmed in white fur and in sharp contrast to Leo and Xander’s now-bedraggled riding clothes.

Xander shook his head slightly as a butler hurriedly took the heavy, black coat from his own shoulders. “The storm picked up more than we expected on our ride back,” he explained. “No harm done, thankfully.” He still had the faintest limp to his stride as he stepped aside, the slightest favoring of his left leg from the fire spell he’d taken at the Chevois border wall. Leo did his best to ignore it.

“Speak for yourself,” Leo said. “I had half a foot of snow drop on me from a conifer branch. Hati nearly killed me.” He shrugged a little as the butler took his coat as well.

“You rode it well,” Xander said.

Leo shot him a sidelong glance at the unexpected compliment. “I stayed on,” he corrected.

Before they could go any further, Camilla interjected once more. “As much as I’m sure my two favorite brothers would love to stand here bickering, soaked, in the middle of the hallway,” she said, “Father requested you in the council room as soon as you returned.”

“We’re your only brothers,” Leo retorted automatically.

“Father?” Xander asked at the same time, his brow furrowing. “Is there something the matter?”

“Well, I’d hurry up and find out if I were you,” Camilla answered, gesturing them down the hallway. “Don’t worry about getting changed, just—oh, Leo, hold on a moment?”

“Yes?” Leo asked, spinning back on his heel.

Camilla’s lips twitched. “Unless there’s something wonderful new Nestran fashion I’ve not heard of yet—in which case please do share—I do believe the seam on your sleeve is supposed to be on the inside.”

“What? I—” He sent a horrified glance down at said sleeve, coming to the sinking realization that his sleeve physically couldn’t be inside out without the rest of his shirt being so too. “Oh, seven hells.” Already darting down the hallway in search of a private room, he called back, “I’ll be there in a minute!”

It took longer than a minute, and Leo cursed himself as he swung the door to the council room open. The door was thrice as high as he was tall—it wasn’t as if he was going to slip in unannounced.

He swallowed, squaring his shoulders as he entered the familiar scene. Though the massive table could have fit thirty people easily, less than a dozen were clustered together at the far end. King Garon sat at the head, as always, with Xander in his traditional place at their father’s right hand. Camilla sat beside the crown prince, with Leo’s empty seat on the other side of her. Iago was to Garon’s left, across from Xander, and a few other of Garon’s advisors stretched down that side of the table.

“How lovely of you to join us, Your Highness,” Iago said, a touch of a drawl in his tone lending a quiet undercurrent of sarcasm to his words.

Leo ignored him, closing the door before dipping into a meager bow directed instead at King Garon. “My apologies for the delay, Father,” he said in appeasing, practiced tone. “I was detained.”

His father gave half a nod of acknowledgment. Camilla’s lip twitched, ever-so-slightly, as Leo dropped into his seat. “You didn’t miss much,” his sister leaned over to tell him,  _ sotto voce.  _ Leo tipped his head in thanks, and the matter was finished.

Garon gathered up a stack of papers, turning them upright to tap the bottoms into alignment against the table. “As I was saying,” the king intoned, “we have had a complaint from Duke Wilhelm, regarding matters of their defense.”

Leo’s brow furrowed, thinking of the steady and proud Diabolan duke who had led their aerial forces in the recent assault and reconquering of Cheve. Despite being nearer to the Bottomless Canyon than Windmire and covering some of the least arable terrain in eastern Nohr, Diabola was one of the most profitable holdings in the country. Not to mention it was one of the most militarily well-equipped—their proximity to the Canyon, and its population of feral wyverns, meant they had been a source of some of Nohr’s greatest aerial forces for generations, not to mention their esteemed footsoldiers and cavalry. Camilla herself had spent half a year there when she had first partnered with Marzia, learning from Diabola’s most elite malig knights. What issue could have raised its head that Diabola, of all places, found themselves unable to handle?

“They appear to be suffering from a relentless scourge of Faceless,” Garon continued.

“That far outside the Woods of the Forlorn?” Leo asked. “I take it they haven’t yet found who’s summoning them?”

“Well, that’s just it,” Iago said in an oily voice. “It seems they  _ aren’t  _ being deliberately summoned. At least not by anyone in the area.” He slipped a piece of parchment across the table. “Additionally, they seem to be rather…  _ unusual  _ specimens. Take a look, why don’t you?”

Leo scanned the writing quickly, then read aloud, “‘...appearing to be larger than normal, and with blood-red hides…’” He passed the paper back. “Strange. I’ve never heard a description such as that.”

“Were you not just in Diabola a few weeks ago?” Xander asked of Iago. “Did you see anything of the sort?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Iago said, a suitably forlorn expression gracing his features. “It seems the earliest sightings did not occur until after I had returned to Krakenburg. A pity.”

“But what does the duke want?” Camilla asked, tapping a manicured finger on the table. “Is he requesting military aid? I wouldn’t imagine they’d be unable to handle it themselves.”

“No,” said Garon. “They merely requested if we had any information. However, in light of Duke Wilhelm’s honored loyalty to the crown, I wish to send you to investigate the matter, Xander.”

A long moment passed in which Xander stared into the middle distance, seeming to weigh his words. “Of course, if those are your orders, Father, I will not delay in carrying them out. However, I must point out that the study of such eldritch magic is one that eludes me. Perhaps Leo would be better suited to the task.”

Leo blinked, doing his best to keep a neutral expression on his face. Xander was  _ right,  _ of course—the crown prince wouldn’t have a clue as to where to start investigating, whereas Leo already had half a dozen theories circulating in his mind about the matter—but he hadn’t expected his brother to actually  _ say  _ it.

Was this to follow in the same vein as Xander so unexpectedly placing him in command of their army at Cheve? After so many years of leaving Leo in his shadow, was Xander finally giving him opportunities to step clear of it?

“Is that so, Your Highness?” Iago asked, folding his hands together on the table and addressing Leo.

“I suppose,” Leo replied in a carefully even tone, though half his thoughts were still elsewhere.

_ I think you are very, very competent, and I think you often take that for granted,  _ Xander had said the night before the battle of the border wall.

But Leo  _ had  _ been competent—he’d taken the wall all but single-handedly and subsequently led the Nohrian forces to victory in Chevalier, all without Xander’s help. He’d earned his knighthood from it, or at least he would come the winter solstice.

So maybe Xander  _ had  _ finally recognized that.

“You suppose?” Iago replied, raising his eyebrows as a deviously quirking smile came to his features. “It’s a yes or no question, Lord Leo. Are you admitting you have been grossly dishonest about your expertise and Lord Xander is mistaken about your abilities?”

“Of course not,” Leo said, a touch hotly. “I  _ am  _ perfectly capable of such a mission. As Xander said, it’s probable I could be of more use to Duke Wilhelm than he would.”

“Ah, so you’re insinuating you think yourself superior to our crown prince,” Iago replied with a click of his tongue. “A pity; delusional egotism suits your poorly.”

Gods, but the man had an obnoxious talent for talking circles around someone when he wanted to, Leo thought as he tried to come up with a retort that wouldn’t make him look even worse.

“That’s enough, Iago,” Xander interjected sharply. “Show your due respect lest I be forced to remind you in a far less pleasant manner. Ultimately, the decision is Father’s.”

“Of course,” Iago replied smoothly. “My apologies, Your Majesty, for overstepping my bounds,” he said to Garon.

He did not actually apologize to Leo, the prince noted with an unending lack of surprise.

“Why don’t you just send the both of them?” Camilla put in. “Duke Wilhelm will certainly be most pleased to be paid a visit by both princes; Xander can rub elbows while Leo investigates.”

“I cannot spare both of them,” Garon replied shortly, in a tone that very much said  _ that was that.  _ Come to think of it, barring Cheve, it  _ had  _ been quite a while now since Leo had been dispatched on a mission with Xander, despite the fact that when he’d first started serving with the army over three years ago he had spent a great deal of time  _ only  _ working alongside Xander.

Leo wasn’t entirely sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult.

King Garon was silent for a very long moment, during which his gaze shifted from Leo to Xander and back again. “Leo,” he finally said, his tone emotionless. “You will pack tonight and leave for Diabola in the morning.”

Iago’s head snapped around in such a fashion that betrayed he hadn’t expected that decision. Leo, meanwhile, ducked his own head in a semblance of a bow.

“Of course, Father,” the prince said. “Am I to bring a company with me?”

“You are going to investigate, not embroil yourself in the fighting,” Garon replied. “Bring your retainer. That is all you’ll need.”

Having apparently recovered from his moment of shock, Iago cleared his throat and said, “I would be infinitely glad to offer my own knowledge on the subject if you wished me to join you, Your Highness.”

Leo bit back a scoff, thinking dryly that the sorcerer had changed his tune awfully quickly. “That won’t be necessary,” he said flatly, then addressed his father once more. “If I may be excused to prepare myself?”

“Very well,” Garon said. “All dismissed.” His words were followed by half a dozen chairs scraping against the stone floor as the council rose to their feet.

Leo hadn’t made it more than a handful of steps when a broad hand caught his shoulder. “Leo,” Xander said, his face grave when the younger prince turned back to look. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Leo said, a slightly odd inflection in his tone at his brother’s seriousness. It wasn’t like this was his first solo mission, after all.

He shot one glance over his shoulder at the still-motionless Iago before he left, and thought the sorcerer’s pale face seemed even more ashen than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Hooooo boy, series finale here we come. I've been plucking away at this story since April, actually, working on it here and there as inspiration called, which means it's definitely been the most heavily edited of HoS fics as the rest of the series caught up behind it.
> 
> -Mostly, I want to talk about the song I used for this fic. I first listened to it when I was on vacation in Florida last March, way back when I was writing _Telepathic._ I realized how I wanted to end the series (which will be seen in the final chapter), and the fic began to write itself around the song. Of course, I was largely drawn to it because it happened to name drop two other Starset songs I had already used in the series _(Monster_ and _Telepathic)_ as well as a third I would come to use later almost specifically for its presence in the song _(Halo)_. A few other neat tie-ins came later--for instance, "knives in the backs of martyrs" being a reference to how the character Francis died in _Riddle_ , which was COMPLETLEY accidental because I didn't realize until after I had written and posted that scene. Plus, I just happen to like the word "Unbecoming" anyway--especially since, as discussed in the summary, Leo is going to find his undoing by the end of this fic ;)
> 
> -Since I have been working on this fic for so long, I posted a poll on my twitter a couple weeks ago as to the preferred timeline for posting this fic. Three days won, so chapter two will be posted tomorrow and chapter three on Wednesday. Enjoy the quick posting!


	2. Halo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Leo officially joins the list of the author’s favorite characters, Iago had it coming, and Hati saves the day.

_ And you laugh as I search for a harbor, as you point where your halo had been, but the light in your eyes has been squandered, there’s no angel in you in the end… _

_ (And all that I was, I left behind me) _

It wasn’t that Leo didn’t  _ like  _ Niles. The archer was a capable retainer, a trusted confidant, and a good friend. He took such pride in his work that Leo really didn’t  _ need  _ a second retainer, for all that he’d been supposed to take on Silas a few months ago—though those plans had only lasted for that short period of time between Silas’s knighting and Asmund and Viola’s deaths. No, Leo  _ liked  _ Niles perfectly fine.

It was just that sometimes the man drove him  _ crazy. _

They had only been riding for an hour, and yet somehow Niles had managed to fill  _ an entire hour  _ making terribly lewd puns that turned Leo tomato red and made him feel absolutely awful when one actually made him laugh. Frankly, the prince hadn’t even known it possible to come up with that many variants on crude slang, even after the years Niles had spent in his service.

“Puns are the second-highest form of humor, milord,” Niles smartly informed Leo when he said as such. A crooked grin came to the former thief’s face as he continued, “The highest is  _ dirty  _ puns.”

“I’m going to be stuck with you for two days on a boat with nowhere to run,” Leo groaned.

“Ooh, poor you, stuck with little old me,” Niles said sympathetically. “Whatever will you do with yourself?” A beat went by before his voice dropped back into that familiar lecherous tone. “Actually, I can think of plenty of things you can...  _ do with yourself, _ if you need any suggestions.”

“Shut up,” Leo groaned, burying his face in one hand. Hati snorted his agreement.

“Reading,” Niles answered, his voice suddenly innocent. “Solitaire. Making macaroni picture frames.”

“What?” Leo asked, utterly bewildered.

“Just a few ideas on how to keep yourself entertained on the trip, milord.”

“We both know that’s not what you meant.”

“Isn’t it?” Niles said, then gasped. “Why, Lord Leo, perhaps  _ you’re  _ the one with the dirty mind.”

“He says after poisoning my ears for the last hour,” Leo said aside to Hati. The stallion did not answer, though Niles let out a belly laugh.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, without a sound but the crunch of their horses’ hooves through the snow. According to the calendar, the last week of March was technically spring, but Nohr usually seemed to care little for what the calendar deemed.

With a pang of something surprisingly like longing, Leo glanced west as the two crested a hill, where he could just see the highest spires of the Northern Fortress peeking over the landscape. They would turn slightly east in a few more minutes, rendering Corrin’s home beyond the horizon once more, but Leo couldn’t help but wish he’d had time to drop in on her for a little while.

Alas, they had another hour or so of riding ahead of them before they took the river the rest of the way to Diabola, and Leo had a feeling that his father wouldn’t exactly appreciate delaying their arrival because Leo wanted to pay a house call. Perhaps he’d have time on the way back.

A breeze whistled through the copse of gray, spiky trees—whether dormant for the winter or simply dead was hard to tell. The wind carried on it the scent of meat and decay—Leo sucked in a breath, and decided to keep a wary eye out for roaming packs of wolves.

He journeyed north and thought of Corrin.

~~~

The horses noticed a few moments before the humans. Niles’s mare threw her head skyward, the whites of her eyes showing, while Hati’s ears went flat with all the vitriol of an adder poised to strike.

“Easy there, girlie,” Niles said, easing his bow free with care so as not to spook his mount any further. Leo had already worked Brynhildr loose from his satchel, but the sharp crack of a branch had him hurriedly flipping through the pages with nimble fingers.

The first Faceless lumbered into the clearing with all the grace of a ravenous bear.

While Niles cursed aloud, Leo cursed himself.  _ Wolves?  _ he thought sardonically. “Hold, Niles,” he muttered, a spell crackling on the tips of his own fingers.

He still wanted to take a moment to investigate, though he knew immediately this wasn’t one of the Faceless he’d been sent to find. They were still days away from Diabolan territory, after all, and this creature resembled all the others of its kind Leo had seen—sickly green-black skin stretched over grotesque musculature, its head not far below Leo’s own from his vantage on Hati. Nothing marked the creature unusual—but for the fact that it hadn’t attacked yet.

Leo whipped his head around, realization dawning. Faceless weren’t exactly the smartest of creatures, but he’d fought them before, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to have the intelligence required for  _ teamwork. _

An unholy roar sounded from his left; Leo’s spell flew from his hand before he even had time to lock eyes on his target. The second Faceless crumpled to the ground mid-leap, pinned to the ground by its own body by the power of Brynhildr’s gravity. Before it had time to negotiate its suddenly-tripled weight, a tree through the heart stilled it for good.

“Don’t start without me!” Niles called, followed by the twang of his bow as an arrow sailed toward the first Faceless. The weapon lodged in the creature’s throat, bringing it to its knees before a second arrow finished the job.

Leo paused, Brynhildr still open and pulsing in his hand. Hati vibrated beneath him, tossing his head as if irritated he hadn’t gotten a chance to join in on the battle himself.

“Oh,” Niles said, sounding vaguely disappointed. “Well, that ended prematurely.”

Leo resisted the urge to roll his eyes, urging Hati in a wide circle around the two fallen Faceless. “Check the perimeter,” Leo told Niles. “I want to examine the bodies if it’s safe. They may lend us a hint about their Diabolan cousins.”

Niles nodded, turning to his right while Leo took a moment to tie his reins so Hati wouldn’t catch on them if a proper battle began. It seemed his precaution had been extraneous, however—by the time he had circled the area and met up with his retainer once more, it was clear their foes hadn’t brought reinforcements.

“Right, then,” Leo said, kicking his feet from the stirrups and swinging off Hati’s back. “Maybe our friends here just got lost on their way home. Stand,” he added aside to Hati, though the stallion didn’t  _ strictly  _ obey, instead wandering after Leo once the prince had gotten a few paces away.

Keenly aware of the fact he was not wearing his usual armor and there was only so much protection his layers of leather and fur would give him, Leo kept Brynhildr at hand as he approached the Faceless he’d downed. His tree had gored the creature clean through; Leo wrinkled his nose at both the sight and the stench of the black-bloodied edges of the gaping hole in the creature’s chest.

His first order of business was to ascertain how old these Faceless were—or more accurately, how long it had been since they had been summoned. Many of the groups in the Woods of the Forlorn were years if not decades old, having escaped the sorcerers that created them to live out their lives as the apex predators of that dreadful place. Their years were evidenced, among other things, by the scars they bore; ugly reminders of battles fought and won, the color of tarnished silver.

Leo crouched by the Faceless, scanning what remained of its back. Unfortunately for him, the method of dispatchment he’d settled on in the heat of the moment hadn’t done him any favors—the damage from Brynhildr was even more extensive than it had first seemed. He saw little evidence of age on the creature’s form, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been there only to be destroyed.

Straightening up, Leo shook his head, calling to Niles, “I’m going to check yours.” He paused for a moment, though, patting a hand over his breast—hadn’t he tucked a notebook into this coat before he’d left?

He pinned Brynhildr under his arm, gloved hands fumbling with the buttons down his front a few moments longer than he normally would have. He had scarcely gotten the coat open to search his interior pockets when Niles reacted to  _ something _ , one hand raising his bow while the other dug into his quiver and swung to nock the arrow in one swift motion.  _ “Lord Leo!” _

Leo spun as the roar of the third Faceless reached him— _ too slow, just a fraction— _

_ Gods, how had it gotten that close? _

Niles’s first arrow whizzed past—wide—while Leo stumbled backward, only inches out of reach of the fist swinging past his head. Some part of him insisted  _ there hadn’t been any other Faceless  _ even as the rational side of him argued that obviously there  _ had  _ been or he wouldn’t be face-to-face with one now.

Finally, after some eternity of flailing out of the way and reminding himself this was why he fought mounted, Leo snapped Brynhilder open, practiced incantation already half out of his lips as the Faceless swung—

_ Tree. _

Leo smacked into the trunk behind him with enough force to leave a gasped jolt in his spell, the words rendered useless. He hadn’t the room for another attempt, not with the Faceless lumbering toward him at an alarming speed, bellowing but not slowing as the next of Niles’s arrows struck home in its shoulder.

Every nerve screamed at him to  _ move— _ if he was fast and very, very lucky, he could duck out under the next swing and the tree that now trapped him would give him just enough cover to slay his foe with one spell. He only had a moment—only a fraction of a second to decide if left or right would give him the most advantage—

Leo chose.

And Leo chose wrong.

The sinew of an undead forearm hit his diaphragm with enough force to knock the wind from him even before the Faceless  _ slammed  _ him back into the tree. Some sound between a cry and a scream escaped him, the back of his head cracking against the bark hard enough for his vision to blur black. Leo’s grip went slack, Brynhildr falling uselessly to the forest floor just before  _ something  _ speared into his stomach with a spike of white-hot agony.

Abruptly, the creature’s grip slackened, another arrow lodging a few inches below the first, and in that sudden gap a wave of pure black fury hit the Faceless at full force.

Even Faceless had to obey the laws of momentum, and twelve hundred pounds of a war-trained stallion had quite a lot of it. Hati’s first charge had ripped the creature away from Leo; now he reared, ears pinned and legs flailing in an attempt to get his foe on the ground in range to be trampled under heavy, shod hooves.

Leo’s legs wobbled, abruptly sliding out from underneath him until he was sitting crookedly against the tree, pulse pounding as he reached one hand in vain for the divine tome that still laid just out of his reach. Hati and the Faceless were tangling far to quickly for Niles to shoot—Hati letting out a screech as the Faceless raked its spiked manacles down the length of the stallion’s neck—which meant the only hope was for Leo to pull himself together and push through the dizzying pain long enough to get out a solid spell—

_ “Ragnarok!” _

_ “No!”  _ Leo shouted, his body ignoring his commands to stand upright as flames engulfed the battle.

Hati let out another bone-chilling neigh as he sprang away from the Faceless, thankfully the only obvious sign of harm on his side of the fight. The Faceless, meanwhile, gave a reverberating howl that echoed through the woods, fire licking through its skin as it writhed, dropped to its knees, and finally fell still.

The world went deafeningly, almost serenely quiet.

“Well,” came a familiar oily drawl. “Lucky for you I showed up, isn’t it, Your Highness?”

Garmr stepped delicately into the clearing before stopping to allow Iago to dismount in a swirl of heavy cloaks. Leo bit his lip in an attempt to stifle a groan, unable to help thinking anything besides  _ Of all people.  _ “What… what are you doing here?”

“Well, several things, actually,” Iago said lightly. “Since you didn’t want me along, I ended up on a mission of my own. It’s a good thing we were headed in the same direction.”

Even in his addled state, Leo thought that excuse rang thin, though he didn’t exactly have the time or the mental capacity to analyze it closer.

Niles, meanwhile, ignored the new arrival, hopping off his horse and striding to Leo’s side. “Hey,” he said in a low, soothing tone as he knelt down and put a steadying hand on his liege’s shoulder. “I’m going to take a look at you, all right?”

Leo nodded absently, quickly stopping when the gesture made the entire world spin. He closed his eyes, hoping it would settle; he opened them again at the sound of approaching hoofsteps.

Hati lowered his head when he came within reach, his brown eyes probably the softest Leo had ever seen them. Ignoring whatever it was Niles was doing on his other side, Leo lifted a hand to scratch at the stallion’s chin. “Good boy,” he whispered, noting that besides the singed spots on Hati’s hide and a few smaller scratches, the long cut on his neck, sluggishly bleeding, seemed to be the only place he’d been seriously hurt.  _ “Good  _ boy.”

Hati snorted, not his usual derisive sound but more of a softer whuffle, stretching forward to lip at Leo’s hair. Leo let himself lean into it a little, continuing to stroke at his mount’s face as if it could dull the sharp, throbbing ache of his injuries.

“I’m not even going to get as much as a ‘thank you,’ then?” Iago suddenly interjected, his voice closer than before. Leo peered over the top of Hati’s nose to catch a glimpse of him.

“Time for that later, don’t you think?” Niles shot back, looking up from Leo’s wounds. “Lord Leo, can you look at me for a moment?”

Leo did so, blinking several times in an attempt to make his retainer’s face focus. Just when he thought such a task would be impossible, he realized it was Niles himself shaking his head and not Leo’s own vertigo.

“Concussion, I’m guessing, and that might be the least of your worries,” Niles said, turning his attention back to Leo’s blood-stained abdomen. Belatedly, the prince realized those wounds had probably come from the same spiked cuffs that had marked Hati’s neck. “I don’t suppose you were  _ lucky  _ enough to bring along a couple of staves?” Niles asked, raising his voice to direct the question at Iago.

Iago clicked his tongue. “I can’t say I was,” he said. “Not that it— _ gah!” _

Without warning, Hati decreed that Iago had come close enough to his master. He swung his neck, ears flat against his head once more, his teeth closing on a mouthful of upper arm that looked to be  _ mostly  _ fabric but definitely had some amount of flesh in it, judging by the sorcerer’s affronted yelp.

_ “Foul beast,”  _ Iago muttered under his breath, holding his arm and taking several steps backward when Hati released him. Leo only barely held enough self-awareness not to start praising his horse again.

“If you’re done insulting the wildlife,” Niles said testily, “he needs medical attention.”

“I can…” Leo began, finding his voice again for the first time in several minutes and discovering it to be a fair bit rougher than he’d expected. “I can make it back to Krakenburg.”

Niles shook his head. “No, you can’t. We’re going to the Northern Fortress.”

_ The Northern Fortress.  _ “No,” Leo said, panic bubbling up in his throat. “No, but I don’t want—”

_ Don’t want Corrin to see me like this, don’t want to worry her, don’t want to frighten her— _

“No buts,” Niles said. “We’re not going to ride a whole hour when there’s help ten minutes away.” He straightened, striding for his mare and eventually producing something from his saddlebag—a spare shirt, perhaps, Leo thought. The archer slid a knife from his boot, beginning to cut the fabric into manageable strips.

“Are they  _ equipped  _ to handle this?” Iago asked, still standing a safe distance from Hati with his arms crossed and one brow raised.

“Flora’s a good healer,” Niles said, not looking up. “At the very least she can patch him up long enough to send for somebody from Windmire.”

Iago hummed noncommittally.

“Hey,” Niles said, his voice clipped. “Are you planning on helping or not?”

Iago held his arms out, nodding toward Hati. “If Prince Leo calls off his guard dog.”

Hati flicked his ears back again as if to say  _ Try me. _

“Hati,” Leo said, struggling to sit a little more upright only to let out a pained hiss as the motion pulled at his wounds. He leaned back again, shutting his eyes and realizing he didn’t really  _ want  _ to call Hati off after his last two encounters with Iago.

_ “Just to remind you that the next time it might not end so well for you, crossing me.” _

“I guess that’s a no, then,” Iago said, bending down to retrieve something from the dirt. From Leo’s vantage, he couldn’t see what it was until the sorcerer straightened up again.

_ Brynhildr. _

A spike of alarm went through him, despite the protest of some last coherent part of him. Iago couldn’t  _ use  _ Brynhildr, after all—it required the blood of dragons in its wielder, just as Siegfried and the other divine weapons did. To anyone else, Brynhildr could be nothing more than an interesting if remarkably convoluted book.

Still, the sight of Iago flicking through the ancient parchment with feigned disinterest was… alarming, to say the least.

“I’ll take that,” Niles said, striding back over and extending a hand for Brynhildr.

“Sorry,” Iago said, with the edge of a smirk that said he wasn’t sorry at all as he handed it over. “Didn’t think you’d want to lose this.”

“No, I can’t imagine so.” Niles set the tome back on the other side of Leo, then continued, “If you want to help, you could always ride ahead and tell them to expect us.”

Leo made another peeping sound of protest at that and found himself soundly ignored. If there was one person in the world he wanted near Corrin  _ less  _ than Iago, he couldn’t think of them at that moment.

“As you wish,” Iago said. He stepped backward, still keeping a wary eye on Hati as he reached back for Garmr’s reins. “I’ll meet you there then, Your Highness. Niles.”

“Yeah,” Niles said shortly, staring into the trees after the sorcerer until long after he’d disappeared. Finally, he shook his head, crouching beside Leo once more. “Well, that’s him gone, at least.”

Leo stayed silent for a long moment, then let out a bitter laugh that he quickly bit off with the edge of a wheeze.

“You okay there?” Niles asked, unrolling his makeshift bandages.

“Not especially, I don’t think,” Leo admitted. Now that the air had settled, the absurdity of the situation was beginning to set in. “Iago just  _ saved my life,  _ didn’t he? Of all people—ah,  _ Niles,  _ gods be good,  _ careful—” _

“Aw, Lord Leo, am I being too rough?” Niles said, his familiar teasing tone more comforting than it had any right to be. If Niles was back to his innuendos, Leo couldn’t be imminently dying, even if it currently felt like he was. “Don’t worry, I’ll be more gentle with you.”

Leo rolled his eyes and breathed out a quiet huff.

“Besides,” Niles said, his voice dropping into a more serious tone, as he jerked his thumb toward Hati. “I’d say that one saved your life, as it was.”

“...Yeah,” Leo said as Niles knotted the bandages on his torso. “I like that one better. Let’s go with that.”

“Whatever you say, milord.” He sobered. “Now, I’m sorry to say this won’t be any fun for either of us, but: you want to ride with me or you want me to lead you?”

“Your mare can’t carry the both of us,” Leo pointed out.

“Yeah, well, as much as appreciate the exploits of the current hero of the hour, I’m not hopping on him with you,” Niles said flatly. “And I’m  _ really  _ not sure how I’d get you up there.”

Leo winced, then realized, “Probably easier than the alternative, actually.” Managing to straighten himself a little, he said, “Hati, down.”

Hati stared at him for a moment, then blinked slowly, as if to say,  _ Really? _

_ “Hati,”  _ Leo repeated, knowing full well that his mount had been trained to a variety of voice commands for moments just like this one.

With an exaggerated sigh, Hati dropped to his knees, then landed-none-too-gently on the ground, leaving Leo with only the defeated thought that he’d have to examine his saddle for scrapes later. Still, it wasn’t enough to earn Hati a reprimand as the stallion peered at him with an expression that said  _ Well? _

Niles shook his head, muttered, “Well, all right then,” and began the arduous process of hoisting his liege to his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, responding to comments a while back: "Can my favs really be my favs until I put them through staggering amounts of angst and potentially life-threatening injuries?"
> 
> Leo: *alarmed noises*
> 
> Well, uh, here we are? (Sorry Leo, but it means I officially love you, all right?)


	3. Unbecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Leo finally discovers his greatest undoing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to put notes at the end of this, simply because I'm content to let the end of this series stand on its own, but:
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed, commented, and enjoyed. It's been a journey, I've loved crawling into Leo's head and finding out what makes him tick, and I'm so excited to continue on to the story of Fates from here. _Believer,_ the continuation to both this series and _Whatever It Takes,_ will be out later this month. It will NOT be tagged in the Heart of Stone series, but it WILL be tagged in the Break Me Down and Build Me Up series, so feel free to keep an eye on or bookmark that to keep up to date. In the meantime, enjoy!

_Eyes in the dead still water, tried but it pushed back harder, knives in the backs of martyrs, lives in the burning fodder, cauterized and atrophied, this is my unbecoming…_

_(Selfish fate, I think you made me this)_

Leo wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke; the sky outside his window was so dark as to prove overcast, and for all he knew it could have ranged from any point just after sunset to just before sunrise.

He sat up gingerly, rubbing his eyes to remove their stinging, wincing as the newly-knit skin over his torso protested. He hadn’t been especially coherent by the time he and Niles had made it to the Northern Fortress, but he had a few hazy memories of Flora working over him as he dipped in and out of consciousness.

Flora and _Corrin,_ he thought with a rush of affection that he couldn’t quite contain. However fuzzy his arrival had been, he knew without a doubt she’d been there from the moment he’d come through the gate to when exhaustion had finally claimed him. She hadn’t a stave herself, but that hadn’t stopped her from digging her hands into the work, from scrambling for whatever it was Flora needed and didn’t have at hand.

Oh, but she had been brilliant.

Leo’s pride, of course, came with a dampening echo of melancholy. Never before had it struck him quite this damningly just how ready she was to leave her prison, not when he’d seen her slip into the role she needed to be in without a moment’s hesitation or insecurity. And it pained his heart to realize that his sister had grown into an adult, into a _woman,_ and he’d hardly even noticed.

Thoroughly awake now, Leo scrubbed one hand over his face again, the other reaching for Brynhildr’s traditional place on his nightstand for want of a light. Whatever time it was now, they’d gotten to the fortress early in the afternoon and it didn’t seem like he’d had anything to eat since. With any luck, there’d be something left in the kitchen for him to scrounge up, even if the thought of traversing that many staircases left him preemptively exhausted.

His fingertips brushed against smooth, empty wood, and all thoughts of food vanished.

Leo’s eyes went wide, his heart surging with panic, swinging his head around to look at his nightstand. But for a glass of water and an unlit candle—without matches, of course, because when was the last time he had used something as mundane as matches to light a fire?—it was bare.

Ignoring the spasm that went through his torso again as he hurriedly swung his legs out of the covers, he yanked the nightstand’s first drawer open with a force that sent the contents banging against the front. A notebook, a few quills, an inkpot that thankfully hadn’t come uncorked from his burst of mania.

Leo scrambled from the bed with so little grace he banged his knees on the floor hard enough to bruise, leaving him muffling a cry of pain from old and new injuries alike. The second drawer proved empty, and the third.

A ragged gasp escaped him as he tried to force himself back up— _check the blankets, and the pillowcases—_ but this time his abdomen seized entirely, a wave of cramps so strong it left him bent double and dry heaving.

“Leo? Leo!”

A cool hand landed on his forehead, both calloused from years of swordplay and soft from a life spent indoors. He thought to pull away, to protest, but all that escaped his lips was another anxiety-fueled gasp for air.

“Shh,” Corrin whispered, continuing to smooth a hand across his brow while the other settled on the nape of his neck. She was crouched before him, almost intimately close, and if she lowered herself fully to the floor she would have been sitting on his ankles. “It’s okay, Leo. Deep breaths. Just breathe with me, okay?”

Leo forced a nod before dropping his head to her shoulder. Corrin’s hand drifted back, tangling in his hair, while his own grip caught up in her shirt over her back in some attempt to ground himself in the rise and fall of her chest.

“Where is it?” he finally managed, long before his breathing had properly settled but when he had gotten enough air for a sentence.

“Where’s what?” Corrin asked, her tone still low and soothing.

His lungs started to pick up again and only sheer force of will left him with the ability to speak. “Brynhildr. I can’t—I—”

“Niles has it,” she said. “Okay? Don’t worry. You didn’t leave it anywhere. Niles has it.”

“No,” Leo said, his brain only deigning to supply him one image: Iago in the woods, Brynhildr in his hands, an almost bored expression on his face. “Iago—Iago has it, he took it—” _Iago, Iago with Brynhildr, oh the destruction he could bring, forests raised inside the walls of Krakenburg, of the Northern Fortress, they were all in danger—_

“Niles has it,” Corrin repeated firmly. “He showed it to me. Would you like me to fetch it for you?”

“Yes,” Leo blurted, then immediately tightened his grip as Corrin shifted. “No. Don’t leave.”

“I have to get up to get you Brynhildr,” Corrin said, her tone still patiently even, without a hint of annoyance at his bout of hysteria. Some rational part of Leo’s brain that was still managing to tick away felt a wave of relief at that. “But if you want me to stay, then I will stay.”

Leo didn’t answer for a long moment, his chest still heaving, then finally shook his head. Corrin wouldn’t lie to him about Brynhildr. That meant it was safe. He, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how long he’d last without her. “Please stay.”

“Okay.”

As the minutes ticked by in silence, with neither of them moving despite how uncomfortable Corrin’s positioning had to be, Leo found himself slowly landing back in the world of logical thought. He realized, now, just how heavy and fuzzy his head was. No wonder he’d overreacted as badly as he had with the number of elixirs and painkillers he had to have in his system.

Iago couldn’t use Brynhildr, he reminded himself firmly. As terrifying as the mental image his brain had dredged up had been, it could never and would never come to pass. And here, in the safety of the Northern Fortress, Leo had no need of keeping the divine tome at hand for defending himself. It was a habit long since kept in Krakenburg, but one he could afford to neglect for now.

With one final, shuddering breath, he let himself relax.

Corrin must have felt the tenseness in his muscles ease, because she spoke a moment later. “Do you want me to help you back into bed?”

“I think—” Leo broke off, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay,” she said again, still running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to get the light first though, all right?”

Mortification stabbed into him as she straightened. Here he was, Nohr’s second prince, set to be knighted come winter, and he was acting like a child who had lost their beloved doll. “I’m sorry,” he got out through his suddenly thick throat. Gods damn him, what was _wrong_ with him?

“It’s okay,” Corrin said, a match flickering to life under her fingertips and sending her into warm relief. Leo’s first thought was to wonder where she’d gotten the match from, and his second was a stunned realization of just how _beautiful_ she was. How had he never noticed that before?

...Really, though, how had he _not_ noticed? Her hair parted like ivory silk as she used her free hand to tuck it behind her ear and Leo found himself all but mesmerized by the motion. Had he been blind, he wondered? It was as though he’d spent his entire life seeing in grayscale and had only in that moment discovered the world had burst into color.

Corrin was speaking again, Leo noticed, though it took him a moment to drag himself out of his suddenly grandiloquent thoughts long enough to catch what she was saying. “...got here about an hour ago, but Flora said we ought to let you rest.”

“Who got here?” Leo asked.

“Elise, Xander, and Camilla. Niles sent word that you’d been hurt. Okay,” Corrin said, crouching down in front of him once more. “You ready?”

“Oh,” Leo said, then nodded.

Despite the fact that he was nearly a head taller than her now, she hoisted him up with an ease that was enough to make him blush. Briefly, he ended up with a faceful of her hair, smelling faintly of something light and floral. Ordinarily, Leo might have tried to work out just what flowers made up the scent, but at that moment he only found himself overwhelmed with how very _Corrin_ it was.

His mattress had never felt more welcoming, he thought, his eyelids abruptly heavier than they had been a moment ago. No wonder Flora had recommended rest.

Once Leo was settled, Corrin loosed her grip on him, though she kept one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “There we are,” she murmured.

Leo didn’t answer, because at that moment some urge gripped him so powerfully he was halfway through with the motion before he thought better of it. He still had a hand on the back of her neck, in just the right spot, and in that fraction of an instant he suddenly, _desperately_ wished to surge up and kiss her.

And, for the second time in his life, Leo’s entire world fell apart at the seams.

_What?_

As soon as the warmth of desire had spread over him, it was replaced with a cold wash of nothing less than visceral horror—and then, worse yet, deadly, sickening certainty.

 _No,_ he thought, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would hide him from reality. _Oh no._

Still, the knowledge slithered in, wound so tightly into his mind that he realized it had been there all along. Every moment a rush of heat had gone through him at the sight of her, every time he’d been just a little too aware of her proximity, every urge to reach out and _touch_ when he, normally so closed off, would have never otherwise wanted to—

They stretched back, further and further over his life, until he reached that moment where those feelings _hadn’t_ been there—

Back when he was fourteen, and he learned that Corrin was Kamui, and Leo shared not a drop of blood with her.

He had assumed—had _hoped,_ he realized—that the sudden shift of his feelings regarding her had been simply that. Corrin wasn’t his sister, yet she didn’t know that, and he’d had to play at everything being the same when nothing in his life was the same anymore. He’d lost every semblance of normality and he’d had to pretend he hadn’t and surely _that_ had been why he’d gone through six months afterward unable to look at her head-on without blushing and stumbling over his words.

But no.

Oh no.

It was so very much worse than that.

He loved her.

Gods help him, he _loved_ her.

Corrin touched a hand to his forehead again and Leo nearly launched himself over to the other side of the bed, his eyes springing open. Seven hells, she’d never want to touch him again—or _see_ him again, for that matter—if she had the smallest inkling of what had gone through his head just now. And she would have every right.

“You’ve got a bit of a fever,” Corrin said, her words concerned but light, still painfully oblivious. “Do you feel ill?”

 _Yes,_ Leo wanted to say, because for a moment he thought he might retch out of sheer disgust. Not at Corrin, of course—gods knew _she’d_ done nothing wrong in all this. But Leo? Oh, Leo had been harboring some twisted facsimile of what romantic love ought to be for the better part of three years now, toward a woman who had spent all her life believing him to be her obnoxious, genius, adored baby brother.

Mutely, Leo shook his head.

“Okay,” Corrin said, then ruffled his hair in a gesture of perfectly innocent, _sisterly_ affection. Leo resisted the urge to flinch. “I’ll let you get some rest, then, all right?”

“All right,” Leo managed, and somehow his voice sounded painfully _normal._

Princess Corrin of Nohr—known to herself and to the world as Leo’s sister—straightened up, gave him one final smile, and left him to the depths of his corrupt affections.

~~~

Leo did not rest. He spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, counting back every moment he had so naively believed the love he bore for Corrin was nothing less than the same pure sentiment he had for his other siblings.

And now what? He could only wonder as dawn finally began to peer through his window. She could never know— _gods above,_ he could never let on to her—but could he manage to keep such a thing a secret when it crept into and consumed every corner of his mind? Could he dare to even ever speak to her again when the thought would always linger at the fringes, threatening to lay waste on any fragment of their relationship that could possibly be salvaged?

How had he ever let himself come to this point?

Finally, just as the first vestiges of morning light reached his walls, the soft murmur of voices outside reached him. One was low, certainly Xander; the other was painfully, unmistakably Corrin, and Leo felt his heart lurch at the sound.

After a moment of indiscernible discussion between them, his door clicked open. Leo hurriedly feigned sleep; there was absolutely no way, shape, or form in which he was ready to face Corrin yet.

The gait that crossed his room was wrong, though, as was the hand just visible in Leo’s narrow field of view, now setting something down a half a foot from Leo’s head. He dared open his eyes a fraction more and found, beautifully, Brynhildr just returned to its rightful place on his nightstand. A rush of genuine relief washed over him for the first time since he’d left Castle Krakenburg the day before.

“Xander?” he whispered, his voice catching on the word until it came out as little more than a croak.

“Did I wake you?” Xander murmured in reply, withdrawing his hand from Brynhildr’s cover. “I apologize.”

Leo shook his head, though he wasn’t sure how visible the gesture was when he was buried in blankets up to his eyes. “I was awake.”

Xander crouched beside him, his face came properly into Leo’s field of view. “How are you feeling?”

Truthfully, even aside from Leo’s current mental turmoil, the answer to that question was _pretty terrible._ As the hours of the night had ticked by, he had almost been able to count as the soreness and exhaustion of post-healing injury had crept into the aches and pains of illness. Unsurprisingly, really—Faceless weren’t exactly the most sanitary of creatures.

Though the temptation to insist _I’m fine_ remained, Leo finally shrugged and said, “I’ve been better.”

“Corrin said you had a fever,” Xander said, then reached out to press his hand to Leo’s forehead. A displeased hum escaped him, his lips turning downward. “One of the royal healers is coming from Krakenburg,” he added as an afterthought. “We’ll keep you here until you’re ready to move.”

Leo forced himself to nod, despite the fact he had never wanted _out_ of the Northern Fortress and away from all its revelations more in his entire life.

Still frowning slightly, Xander said, “Do you remember what happened? I’ve spoken with Niles, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

What Leo wanted to say was _It came from nowhere,_ but he knew well before he spoke that such words would only carve Xander’s frown deeper. Logically, the third Faceless couldn’t have come from _nowhere._ “I didn’t…” he began. “I didn’t search the area hard enough,” he finally admitted. “I didn’t realize there was another Faceless and it caught me off guard.”

Xander sighed, looking away. “You must be more _careful,_ Leo,” he said softly. “You could have been killed.”

“I know,” Leo said, rolling onto his back, torn between indignation and shame. How _had_ that Faceless snuck up on him, anyway? He wasn’t careless, had _never_ been careless, yet one could have only assumed so judging by the events of yesterday.

“I’ve asked too much of you lately, haven’t I?” Xander asked.

Leo glanced over at him again. “What?”

“Since Cheve,” his brother continued. “I should not have asked you to take command that day. You did well, and I can only commend you, but I should not have asked it of you.”

“What are you saying, Xander?” Leo asked, trying to force his thoughts into coherency. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yes. It worked. And perhaps if I had asked you to come with me to Cheve on New Year’s Eve, that would have worked too.” Xander shook his head, grief for Asmund and Viola written in his eyes. “But I should not have to foist such things on your shoulders in the first place.”

“You’re not _foisting_ them on me, Xander.”

“I should have gone to Diabola myself in the first place,” Xander continued, as if he hadn’t heard, before letting out a sigh. “Not that it matters now. I’m to leave in a few hours.”

“You’re going to Diabola,” Leo said, trying not to let the defeat in his tone show.

“Father doesn’t wish to keep Duke Wilhelm waiting. Iago is going to help me investigate.”

Leo only just managed to disguise a shudder before several things clicked into place at once.

Iago, doing his best to cast an unfavorable light on Leo in front of Garon two days ago. Iago, looking genuinely shocked and slightly worried when Garon had decided to send Leo anyway. Iago, appearing in the woods at the perfect, climactic moment of yesterday’s battle.

A third Faceless, which Leo _knew_ had not been there moments before, just as he knew from a few weeks past that Iago had taken to the study of necromancy.

_“Just to remind you that the next time it might not end so well for you, crossing me.”_

Leo closed his eyes, sucking in a breath. He’d known for a long while now that Iago fell somewhere on the spectrum of disliking him and despising him, but…

Either this was a powerplay, one designed with enough clues left in for Leo to figure it out and take it for the warning it was intended as, or Iago had given up on subtlety and had outright just tried to have him killed.

He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

“I’ll let you know what we discover,” Xander said, oblivious to Leo’s alarming epiphany. “And in the meantime, rest. Your sisters are worried about you.” The faintest edge of a smile turned up his features. “Corrin found a spare bedroll and camped outside your door last night.”

Unceremoniously, Leo found himself drawn back to his even worse realization. A surge of affection went through him, quickly followed by another of self-loathing. “Tell her I’m fine,” he managed.

His next words stuck in his throat, only managing to escape once he told himself that Xander—and Corrin—would be as clueless to their second meaning as Leo himself had been only a matter of hours ago.

She could never know. Surely the day would come when Corrin would learn of her true heritage—that she had never been Corrin at all, but Kamui, and that her siblings had never been her siblings—but even then, on the off chance she ever deigned to speak to them again, she could never know of his less-than-pure affections. Whatever path she might follow in the wake of that knowledge, Leo would be always and forever be either her brother or her enemy.

Even if she could still care for him, the simple reality of Leo _of Nohr_ and Kamui _of Hoshido_ was laughably impossible even at the best of times.

So he spoke the words anyway, knowing they would come across as innocently as they always had and always would.

“And tell her I love her.”

Leo could only ask himself if that truth would always taste so bitter.

_FIN_


End file.
